God had given a gift of talking and listening too
of my voice to calm or direct
(my wildness Im trying to tame for preservation not bereft)
these ones I can find you know are the intimate spell memories
that I hold and let go here
People I met conglomerate of the Uber character of memory
not any one person save a few are written here
all those times people spoke I was too much in action
to see its worth
seeing only the practical impatience of youth and inexperience
so glad Im seeing it now

I spent days on the road with a pack of food bank food
with someone a simple blanket in summer
too cold at night for mosquitoes and late in season
swimming under bridges in cool rivers
the sun beating down
soaked in rains with good jackets though
always well equipped
like life never knowing when
but the zippo always lit when the bic would
not for cigarettes to revive
(gave up smoking)
the storytelling to reward those whom
picked us up for lifts
and in doing the spiritual travellers
art exchange
each carrying the portion of burden
or worry along
some of these poems are the stories
the people I meet tell me
thats another reason I dont publish
and keep it simple

We are all not here by chance
I struggle so hard with that one

this comment coming from you
is a great compliment Lonnie

for I have met others similar
and they were kind to us
and helped us
they were capable people
still

we do need each other
for all our histories
our wounds
our breaks and aches

storytelling here
is the alms
the sitting around the fire
before nightfall to put us
to rest to send us in
dreamscapes needed

Thank You